A Small Collection of Poems, with a Touch of Cinnamon
by MaggslovesPerry
Summary: Stuff on writers, readers, characters, to clear my mind and my writers block too! Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is a new thing for me to keep encouraged with other stuff I'm writing. I'm putting this as Penderwick's fanfiction just because thats what it is right now. I will also write about other writers and just one page poems (at least, in google docs). I do already have one for Spark Writer (if you haven't checked those stories out do!) but am starting with Skye, because I think she can be easy and hard to write, so I wanted to try. Let me know more suggestions if you like it, and if you don't, let me know what I can do to improve! **

**Skye Penderwick**

There's a girl sitting on a bench there

Reading.

A book on Astrophysics.

She

Is

Killing you

Enthralling, with her scorn

And talking back

and maybe… even a little sass?

But no, Skye Penderwick is not what you are thinking

There is no attitude, no raging hormones.

There's an understanding

Of the sky, and the earth and everything

that doesn't include emotion, stupidity

And Jane

But Skye doesn't need to understand.

Because she has it all.

Present tense.

She clings to it, the stars and the dark matter

The family and the friends

and, Jeffrey.

Who she can't place.

Is he a lover or a brother?

Friend or family.

But she doesn't try.

Not yet.

So Jeffrey waits.

Because Skye,

adroit,

tactful,

intelligent,

bold,

avid,

wonderful Skye

She

is the one you wait for.


	2. Chapter 2

Spark Writer

There is a beauty

A strange, transfixing beauty

In capturing the perfect word

For a feeling, or a moment

Or the collide of two people

I have seen a wonderful eloquence

Of the perfect, perfect world

Woven by threads of words,

Swirling

Dancing

Darting in circles around each other

There is something that captures you

As you read

There is a- please don't end

please don't end, please don't end

please don't end.

But then it does. And there is no room for it to ever have kept going

Because it ends when it needs to

Where it needs to

There is always going to be some of me screaming

"Where the fuck is the next section!"

But that just dulls it down.

I've learned to quench the rush of emotion and breath deeply

For a moment I can soak

In the happiness, the heartbreak

The ending of it all

And maybe the beginning?

This rush, this beautiful rush

comes only once a week or so,

So I wait in giddy anticipation, for when it will come

And I can

Plunge,

Soak,

Grasp,

Die,

Live,

Breathe,

and just

read it.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for everything! Keep well!

Jane Penderwick

From the time she was little,

Jane loved to dance with language.

Words sprouted in her tiny garden

She would write them over and over

Beauty

Trust

Happiness

Jane cherished not only the feeling

But the words themselves.

The way the B curved on top,

like the crest of a sleeping girl

Or how the T was only in straight lines

Jane loved how Skye's name was mostly curves

an effervescent kaleidoscope of energy

balled up in a bundle of blonde girl

But Jane loved her name best.

The way the J caught the straight line

and turned it into a curve

How the a looked.

the n was curves also,

and the e nearly killed her

But how could she explain to Skye

that when she dreamed,

her name was a separate being

the words could curve over each other

melt and transform

changing from happy to sad

great to terrible

vivacious to sullen

in the heartbeat it took for Jane to grasp their hand

So Jane kept quiet.

Never knowing that she wasn't crazy

Skye's name was separate from her being

She wasn't insane,

depressed

sad

confused

or

just strange

Jane was a writer.


	4. Chapter 4

A Blackout Poem (THANK YOU SPARK WRITER!)

From The Book of Virtues- the chapter on the Velveteen Rabbit (picked randomly)

About Ben:

For he knew that

Generally

Wind

Stared at him

Why don't you get up and play

it said

I can jump higher than anything!

But of course he

was made all in one piece

He began to whirl around and dance

and he would give anything in the world


	5. Chapter 5

Why does the world spin? Batty was so confused, always. Why did her sisters fall in love? And her father? And Hound too? Batty didn't understand what it was. What? An infection. Stuck all around her. And then, she saw a face that peered out. From behind the rosebush. And she understood. How light works. How it controls everything. And when it is turned on, The world is blinding. The world can kill you. And lift you up. And carry you toward them. So Batty walked. And she smiled. The light faded for a moment. And she smiled again. And she understood. 


	6. Chapter 6

Okay so, Two notes before this one.

A: I'm going to try to post on this every day, just to keep myself going, as my other one takes SO MUCH MORE TIME and I'm almost out of school, so I can Finally finish that...

B: I'm branching out from Penderwicks, and this is for a Midsummer Night's Dream, which my school is doing in a week (I'm Hippolyta, so I'll be posting some wieghty women out of power stuff soon, and singing Dreams by Bastille ft. Gabrielle Aplin- check the song out...). This is for Titania and Oberon, who are played by two of my good friend, so this is for them... And I think I'm calling it _Planet of Spoken Word_.

Thanks for all the views, comments and support!

-MaggslovesPerry

He was dark and illustrious

In his cruel love for the planetarium of light

that blossoms before him,

moons circling them,

turning their presence into a moving beast

restless, a half moon

half in shadow

half in light

And as harsh words cross the cusp

of this being,

It writhes and thrashes

And,

You cannot stop watching.


	7. Chapter 7

Sometimes, I feel like I can make the world spin.

Sometimes, I feel like the world just spins me.

Until I'm too dizzy.

And I have to fall down.

But I have to get back up, because if it sees

The weakness stuck inside me.

It won't stop.

Because I know the world is ruthless.

I peak, and drop.

I die, and am pulled back to life

In this insecent game

called Love.

And Oberon,

with his beautiful power,

left. As he had to.

And as we kissed for the last time.

He didn't wish me goodbye.

Because he didn't need to.

He would be watching. I knew.

But Theseus was calling me already.

Theseus was beckoning.

And I wasn't letting myself cry.

Because life would fucking see me.

And I couldn't let that happen.

I couldn't

So I didn't cry.

But I wanted to.


	8. Chapter 8

For him:

I fell, a wounded butterfly  
into  
your outstretched palm.  
But I could go. I could have struggled on more feet.  
More time.  
I could have flown,  
but if your fingers touch my wings,  
I will never fly again.


	9. Chapter 9

Working on graduation speech-type poems now... But I think I like this best for Skye and Jane- and their connection. I think this is best for all of us. I think I like this best in the heart of a small reader, or a small writer who knows the great and unpredictable heartbeat of true friendship.

STRINGS OF THE HEART

This string will play out to the very beginning

To a small girl who is terrified of everything

And a hand reaching out to grasp another

And then a laugh, perhaps a tear

This string is severed here

And now I am a still a small girl who is afraid of leaving you behind

And a hand reaching out to grasp another

And then a laugh, and many tears

This string will play out to the very end

To an old woman who is terrified of nothing

And a hand reaching out to grasp another

And then a laugh, perhaps more tears

This string will never be cut.


	10. Chapter 10

Hello Lovelies, Thinking that my next full time project might be a Luna/Dean one? Anyway, teaser (kinda) just trying to work out stuff from my head into paper to clear it out. Obviously not my characters, they belong to J.K. (the truest writer of any Harry thing).

But yeah, this takes place at Shell Cottage before the battle of Hogwarts by maybe a week?

Dear Ginny,

When he is waiting for something, he drums his fingers on top of mine and I try to steep the tide of noise flowing up and down from my toes to the top of my head. I keep my mouth shut tight for fear that if I open it, an exuberant noise will flow out and when he looks, he shall see my blush and my beating heart at the base of my throat. And I watch his mouth and the way it forms it laughing syllables because I can't look at his face as he laughs. If I saw the laugh forming in his eyes, it would drip though mine and he would read me easily and see what an idiot I am. I am taking care of Fleur's garden, and he sits outside on his relaxing chair and sometimes when I look up- I catch him looking at me, and then he puts his book down and asks me about something new. Mostly about plants and animals. He seems hungry for knowledge. I also spend more and more time by the ocean, stinging shells to bring with me to my next apartment after the war. I want to keep it to remember this time, when all of these things seem the most important. We all connect right before we lose each other.

How silly it is to feel all of the emotions I didn't think possible right now.

-Luna

Gin-

I hope you don't mind that I'm writing you. But I couldn't think of anyone else because when she looks at me sometimes, and her eyes seem to hold silky moonlit wisdom that I will never know to seek, I can't help but think of holding her. And keeping her someplace she won't be harmed, a statue cut from marble that I can sneak off and stare at. I'm obsessed with the angle of her thin nose, and the way her cupid's bow is so prominent above her pale lips. Fleur cut her hair recently, but it's still long enough to curl around her neck in a tiny ringlet that I watch as she talks, and it bounces up and down as she grows more interested in her topic. I just want her to never stop talking. Her voice is so clean and smooth, she makes me feel rough around the edges. Sometimes, I catch her watching me watch her as she gardens and I have to ask her something just so that I can hear her voice run through tracks laid out so perfectly in the air between us- and that little blonde curl bobs up and down in front of her. God, I'm such an idiot to fall in love right before she will be harmed.

Dean.


	11. Chapter 11

Tongue Joints:

I always chewed on my paintbrush  
with the dream that my tongue would turn  
into a kaleidoscope  
so that maybe  
maybe  
someone would want to kiss me.


	12. Chapter 12

Jane after heartbreak/Maggs after heartbreak: Umm... it does swear...

You told me you'd never, ever been seen

with someone shadowed with a crazy soul.

Like me.

That's what your brain decided to retort.

The final lashings of a dying animal.

We are a carcass, can't you see it?

One look and I know for me,

sleeping is not an option.

Your words will ring until

they break on the glass behind my eyes

And when I cry,

it's not for you

it's for the words I had stacked up in preparation

for the next conversation

about Us.

The snow is already falling over the words I buried in the yard.

I wrote you a letter.

And a toast.

To yesterday.

Here's to the past.

Merry fucking Christmas.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you so much for all the support! I'm glad you're enjoying it!_

_Maggs again through heartbreak/Jane when her heart is failing. _

_I guess I always imagined Jane being unpopular in highschool- just because she is the girl writing lives in the back of the class. And the only way to get to the back is being shoved there. _

_And it swears again. I like the word fuck. Very expressive..._

_The First Spasm_

_The first time I encountered light _

_was when I walked across the bridge of your nose. _

_And you said: _

_"__Don't you dare tell me _

_how to feel." _

_You are your own fucking person _

_aren't you? _

_The day my hands turned into pick axes, _

_and I was charged with the task of pulling through _

_the pass of their cavernous insides, _

_I let the syllables ricochet across the _

_blank space. _

_"__They don't understand." _

_Sometimes your mother has to be human too_

_and break down when _

_the boy just like your brother was shot _

_and no one else has noticed_

_that there is a great gash on the top __of your ear _

_with thick residue dripping through your canal. _

_You can't even hear the words anymore. _

_And sometimes, you have to lie upside down. _

_Because you need more goddamn blood in your head. _

_Please, please, please. _

_I'm just a girl. _

_I'm sorry if you thought I was too much like someone else_

_that I am the carbon copy of the soul my limbs won't leave behind. _

_I'm sorry if you hated that I tremble next to you, because _

_I am too used to your mouth being used as a weapon_

_instead of a bandage. _


	14. Chapter 14

Champagne:

(There are 3 minutes until I can flip the page)

Perhaps it's less that the city has a heartbeat  
big and rolling like mine when we didn't speak  
but kept listening,  
and more that there is a lantern floating up  
over thatched roofs sewn together

(if I were to draw a cartoon of my soul, it's stitching would be messy)

And if it can stay up,  
then I can keep standing in the smoke of  
the devouring fire.  
And even though on the right,  
someone is humming that one old song  
and on the left,  
someone is wiping their eyes on their sleeve;  
my mind is traipsing over the open bottles of champagne,  
and onto the place where in the shadow of your jaw,

my head once rested.


	15. Chapter 15

Facts:

I wore my heart on my sleeve.

You chose to catch it when it slipped.

It's time to stop lying to both of us.

Because we both made a choice that night.

And I wouldn't risk lying.


	16. Chapter 16

Black out poems from a reader's digest: Heartsblood (the book). Silhouettes (the title of the poem)

Don't turn these men into slim ghosts

speaking like clenched teeth,

gunning at lit cigarettes

At twelve thousand lowly plans of hearts

appearing in new light

at other headlines for humans.

those still alive.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Hello dears... Hope you enjoy this. My heart beats at too fast a beat so I assure there will be more soon. For some reason this poem reminds me of Skye.

Counting Pills I Will Never Swallow:

Four minutes before I threw myself in the current,

I skipped three stones in the river

And made a promise for each one

I would scrape the numbers off every ruler I could find.

so that I never knew exactly how far away your heart was beating.

II. I would walk before you in the winter and shake all the snow off the branches of trees

so that when you walked it would look like spring was coming

III. I would lose myself in my sweater every time you started counting

The cuts on my arms

The snares in my hair

The times I had left.

Ten minutes after I stopped needing you,

I flung myself down

And stowed three stones at the mouth of the river.

Three.

Two.

One.


	18. Chapter 18

Another Thank You Note-

You rubbed my flesh raw  
But underneath the layers of dead snowflakes and hearts  
. .beating  
Emerged a creature more strange and beautiful  
than before.


End file.
